Checkmate In Five Moves
by RZZMG
Summary: In the midst of the on-going conflict with the Dark Lord's Army, the White Queen, Hermione Granger, and the White King, Draco Malfoy, manoeuvre around each other, both aiming for the same thing – an end to the curses laid upon them by Bellatrix Lestrange! 2013 Dramione-Remix Round 4 Fest entry. Story won a Mod's Choice Award! Dramione/Draco x Hermione. Drama-Romance-Angst.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**This was my pinch-hit for the 2013 Dramione Remix Round 4 entry (dramione-remix . livejournal . com). This story won a Mod's Choice Award at the fest (each of the Mods got to pick their favourite story from the submissions, and I was so very surprised and honoured to learn that Mod Kim picked this one as hers! Thank you, Mod Kim!).**

**The fest is over and reveals are out, so I can post this for you here. This fanfic is multi-chaptered, and I will put up a chapter a week until it's done. Also, there will be a few extra scenes added in here that were taken out of the original fest submission, so if you read this story over at the Dramione Remix site, you're in for some bonus story material here, so give it another read, yeah? :)**

**Here was the prompt I worked from:**

_Prompt: Rogue x Gambit (X-Men comics)_

**Thank you to my beta, LadySashi, who once again rode to the rescue and made the story shine. Thank you to the Mods for putting on this fest again - always a fun-filled time!**

**Please review!**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**TIMELINE:** War-time, A/U (Moody did not die, and events are completely different from the time at Malfoy Manor in "Deathly Hallows" and onward)

**MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Hermione Granger, Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, Draco Malfoy

**SECONDARY CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): **Bellatrix Lestrange, Minerva McGonagall, Alastor Moody, Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape, Ginny Weasley

**SUMMARY:** In the midst of the on-going conflict with the Dark Army, the White Queen, Hermione, and the White King, Draco, manoeuvre around each other, both aiming for the same thing – an end to the curses laid upon them by Bellatrix Lestrange. Circling the board are random pieces: Rabastan Lestrange (the White Knight), Narcissa Malfoy (a Bishop of indeterminate colour), Ginny Weasley (the White Rook), and Astoria Malfoy (the Black Queen). Can Hermione figure out how to win the White King's affection and Checkmate Voldemort, the Black King, in time?

**RATING: **NC-17 (MA)

**WARNINGS:** Explicit het sex (dub-con and consensual – virginity loss), love quadrangle, explicit profanity, war violence, implied torture, infidelity, implied accidental magic use, misuse of dark spells, unintended pregnancy & miscarriage, main character death, characters a bit OOC for the sake of the plot.

**NOTES:**

Skewers, Pins, and Forks are all chess tactics that can be played on the fly to counter or attack. Gambits, Defences, and Traps are in-depth chess strategies that require planning everything out perfectly several moves ahead.

In the X-Men comics, Gambit & Rogue are opposites in the comic series: he's an energy creator, she's an energy stealer. Gambit also happens to be desperately in love with Rogue, and she with him, but they can never touch, due to her powers. They are star-crossed lovers in the series as a result, always fighting and pushing each other away, while pulling at each other at the same time. In this fic Gambit = Draco, Rogue = Hermione.

* * *

**_CHECKMATE IN FIVE MOVES (alternatively, "THE AFTERMATH")_**

**By: RZZMG**

* * *

******.~.~.~.~.~.**

_**Malfoy Manor - April, 1998**_**  
**

_******.~.~.~.~.~.**_

_"Did you know Mudbloods are the ancestral children of Squibs mating with Muggles?" Bellatrix whispers in my ear, as if imparting a secret. She giggles, insanity tainting her joy, but shouts in my face a moment later, "Your kind is an aberration, bred by defects and the mundane!" _

_She leans back, and I can barely see her once-beautiful features through my tears. _

_I want to tell her to go straight to Hell, but my tongue isn't working quite right. It feels swollen. I think I bit down upon it too hard during that last Crucio._

_"You're born stealing magic from our world," Voldemort's mad lieutenant continues in a more even tone of voice, pressing the tip of her wand into my cheek, "in a pathetic attempt to claw out a place for yourself where you didn't belong from the start." She taps my forehead three times and snarls at me. "Your kind are all dirty, foul thieves from the moment of your birth until your death. I'll prove it to you."_

_For a moment, the haze before my eyes clears, and I can see Bellatrix's face. She's wearing a sadistic smile just for me._

_I haven't a clue as to what the mad witch means, or what the triumph in her black eyes signifies, until a month later, when she lies dead on the cracked floor of the Great Hall, and Voldemort barely escapes Harry's wrath._

**.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Grimmauld Place – February, 2000**

******.~.~.~.~.~.**

There's a familiar knock on my bedroom door, hard and a bit demanding.

I pull my reading glasses from my nose, blink away the fuzziness, and look up at the antique Victorian clock sitting on the small table at my side as an excuse to stall.

Is it that late already? I've lost track of time again.

Setting aside my book, I make my feet, a bit shaky. I take a moment to attempt to straighten my robe, and to regain control of my trembling limbs and my fast beating heart.

I hate that he knows my weakness, just as I'm sure he despises exposing his to me. We have an arrangement and an understanding, but that doesn't mean I enjoy letting down my defences, especially where _he's_ concerned.

The pounding gets louder, more insistent.

I should let him sit out in the hall until it hurts. He'd deserve no less. I won't, but still, the idea brings me some small, grim amusement.

With a sigh, I raise my wand and wave it over the door, unlocking it - a wordless invite to my guest.

The door swings open and slams against the wall, and he enters, shutting and relocking it behind him with his wand. Without a word, he stalks towards me, already half undressed, and shucks his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the ground.

I refuse to just start stripping because he expects it. I won't make this easy for him. I cross my arms and watch him approach, that strange fluttering in my belly that appears every time we do this crawling around inside me like an illness.

His belt hits the wooden floor with a clang, and the sound of his zip coming down is loud in the hush. He doesn't say anything, just stares as me, waiting. His cock is in his hand, and he's stroking it without shame, letting me know that his lust is real and all for me.

There is a darkness in his gaze, and anyone who didn't know him better would assume it meant he was angry. I know his expressions by now, though. He takes a twisted enjoyment from the needle-like sensation that digs under his skin whenever he allows his energy levels to spike too high, for too long. It's one of the reasons why he's almost always waited until the last minute to come to me, hovering on that edge between pleasure and pain, riding the high.

There is sweat upon his upper lip, and dotting his brow as the ache sharpens, carving into him now. I see the black glint in his eye, the pursing of his lips, but he makes no sound. My body trembles, sensing the sweet taste of magic so close… I swallow, thick and heavy, as hunger begins clawing at my insides. The hollowness in my belly makes me an empty, concave vessel, desperate and needy. But I have my pride, and I won't be the first to flinch in this game of chess that Malfoy and I play.

The clock on the side table chimes once to let me know it is half-past. The sound jars us both, and he breaks, moving first. Gripping my arms in a firm hold, he drags me over to the bed, ripping my robe from me. I'm wearing nothing underneath, having expected him. My nipples are hard points, straining for his touch as he focuses on them. He chuckles, and it is a victorious, male sound that rumbles through his chest.

Using his weight, he knocks me back onto the mattress and mounts me, shoving my thighs aside. A quick adjustment and he thrusts, burying deep inside me with a moan of satisfaction. I'm so wet, and my leg muscles are quaking uncontrollably, and I grab hold of him for all I'm worth and fuck him just as wildly as he fucks me. We tear at each other, letting out all our frustrations over our unusual situation.

I want this with him. I want it more than once a month. I want it because there's a type of chemistry between us that's undeniable, despite our contradictory natures.

If only he wanted the same thing...

It's over too quick, and for the first time since we began this bizarre ritual, I don't come. I think it's because the emotional war going on in my head is upsetting me too much to allow my body a release. I do feel Malfoy's seed, hot and slick, inside me as he hisses his satisfaction, though.

I tense, anticipating what's next. His arms tighten around me, preparing us both.

The rush of his discharged magical energy pours through me a moment after his last jerking release, lighting me up like a Christmas tree from the inside-out. I scream and hold onto him for all I'm worth, crying from the pleasure and pain of being filled with magic once more. My greedy cells drink up every drop he gives, absorbing it like a sponge, until I'm once more filled to bursting and Malfoy is back to his normal energy levels.

It will take me three or so more weeks before I use up all of this magic he's gifted me, but only if I'm careful with its use. Three weeks to once again be a witch...

My lover slumps against me, drained for the moment. His panting breath against my throat feels oppressive, like humidity in the summertime, and I turn my head so I can find a cool respite from the surrounding air. My limbs are like jelly, unwilling to respond to my mental commands for them to let him go.

He takes the decision from me a few moments later, pushing off and out of me. His eyes don't meet mine now, as he hastily buttons back up his slacks and re-zips. He gathers his things from the floor and heads for the door as quickly as he can.

There, he pauses, however, just as he does every time. I know what he's going to say next, and I hate the words, because they only reinforce what this is between us: a means to an end.

"Thanks, Granger."

He slips out the door and is gone, quietly closing it behind him.

Every month, it's the same: he comes through my bedroom like a hurricane, and he leaves my heart just as shredded and devastated when he passes on.

I am painfully aware of the fact that he has never kissed me on the mouth, too.

**.~.~.~.~.~.**

_**Hogwarts Castle – 2 May, 1998**_

_******.~.~.~.~.~.**_

_"She'll be going with me," Snape explains to Moody, indicating the shivering witch at his side. She's heavily cowled so I can't see her face, but strands of messy, blonde hair appear at the edges of her hood, and I can see her bared, pale arms peeking out from under her cloak. Her skin is smudged with dirt and ash. I also note that her dress is torn at the hem, but she doesn't use her wand to fix it. I wonder why not._

_"Are you mad? What good is a young girl going to be in that viper's den?" Moody argues with his colleague. "They'll eat 'er alive!" _

_The two get into a heated debate over the matter, with Lupin and McGonagall trying to referee. I wait at the edge of the group, having walked all the way up the stairs to the Headmaster's tower, wanting to ask if anyone has seen Harry or Ron. I've just come in from helping to dig out a trapped Centaur in the decimated Viaduct Courtyard, and have no idea where my two best friends are._

_"Oh, Miss Granger," Minerva calls, drawing the conversation to an abrupt halt as she makes it clear I'm hovering, listening. "What can we do for you, dear?"_

_"I wondered if you've seen Harry or... or Ron about? I seem to have lost track of them."_

_"We will discuss this later," Severus curtly informs the others, ignoring my presence entirely. "Come," he instructs the covered witch at his side. _

_They move past me towards the open door and the stairwell. The witch accidentally brushes against me in a somewhat rough manner, but doesn't apologise. I assume it's because, hanging as she is with Snape, she's in Slytherin, and everyone knows I'm Gryffindor, and whether the war is over or not, House prejudice remains the same. Besides, the Slytherins were treated rather badly when they were banished to the dungeon before the fighting, so it's natural to expect they'd harbour some resentment._

_I turn my attention to more important things... like finding Ron and Harry. _

_When my best friends and I do finally hook-up, I try and fail to use magic to heal Ron's bloodied nose._

_It takes me several days of failed spell-casting to admit the truth: I'm empty, as ordinary as my parents._

_I'm a Squib._

**.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Grimmauld Place – February, 2000 (2)**

******.~.~.~.~.~.**

I wince as I sit down in the chair at the kitchen table, and Ginny tosses me a sympathetic look.

"You okay?" she asks knowing that the morning afters with Malfoy are the same as well. I'm typically swollen and sensitive from the sex, and I ache from the added heaviness in my bones. They become like Adamantium the first few days after Draco's magical excess is absorbed by my body, and I'm slow moving and have to take pain potions to counteract the effects.

I nod, weary. "Fine," I croak. My throat is raw from screaming the night before – not just during the sex, but throughout the night, as the magic digs its way into my pores, sinking deep into every cell. It is pure pain and rapture at the same time.

I wonder if what I endure after Malfoy shunts his excess magical energy to me qualifies as a form of cryptobiosis. I know that for the first day after the transfer, I feel like one of those Sea-Monkeys sold in Muggle science kits, spontaneously birthed and filled up with life. Every joint and muscle hurts, my head pounds, I'm sensitive to noise and light. It's awful, and it's beautiful at the same time.

No one is sharing the kitchen with us for the moment, so Ginny speaks up. She's bold where she shouldn't be, and fearless in the face of danger, and although that makes her a tough opponent on the battlefield, it doesn't make her a very tactful person. I both love and hate her for it at the same time.

"I'll say it for the gazillionth time: you don't have to be only with Malfoy," she points out. "Rabastan's here, too."

I sigh. "I know."

"He's made it clear he's interested-"

"I _know_, Gin," I say again.

My best girl friend is quiet for a moment as I rub my temples, trying to forcibly beat the migraine that's slowly creeping up on me. It'll be a losing battle, but I fight it anyway, knowing I can't take any more pain potions for the time being. I'm already dangerously close to addiction.

"Malfoy's married, Hermione. If the war ends in our favour, as it looks like it might soon, and we're all still alive, he'll choose his wife over you. You'll get your heart broken."

Tears waver before my eyes. I sigh again. "I know."

There is an uncomfortable silence that lasts a bit before Ginny changes the topic. "Harry's close to finding Ravenclaw's Horcrux, and he thinks Nagini might be the sixth one."

I wipe the tears from my eyes, frowning. "I didn't know Horcruxes could be inside living creatures. I always assumed they were only found in inanimate objects. All of Voldemort's other hiding places were things – the locket, the ring, the cup."

"The diary," Ginny reminds me.

We spend a while talking on the subject, and then move on to other Order business and gossip. We avoid discussing my relationship with Draco again.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**Please review!**

.

**Extra notes about the X-MEN parts of the story (so you'll really understand how the stories blend if you're reading this fic primarily as a "Harry Potter" fan with little-to-no knowledge about the X-Men series): **

In Marvel comics, Rogue is a Mutant - a person born with 'super DNA' – the next evolution of humanity. She is also a member of the benevolent team of Mutants known as the X-Men. Her powers are tactile: she touches another living being's skin and absorbs their life-force, memories, and mutant abilities. She once grabbed and held onto fellow Mutant, Ms. Marvel. Doing so caused Rogue to permanently absorb the other woman's powers and memories, leaving Ms. Marvel a _tabula rasa_ – a completely blank slate.

Gambit is another Mutant in the X-Universe, who was once a thief & a member of an evil organization bent on world-domination, but he eventually turned to the X-Men to fight against his former colleagues. He is an energy charger; he imparts kinetic energy to items, and throws them at objects or people, and they explode on contact. He's handsome, charming (when he puts his mind to it), and a womanizer. Gambit's first love was a woman named Bella Donna - a blonde, blue-eyed bombshell who also happens to be disgustingly rich, a skilled assassin, and a nasty foe. Gambit married Bella Donna, but was forced to separate from her later (they are not legally divorced, but they definitely are not together anymore in the series).

In the comic series, there is a group of Mutants who banded together to form The Hellfire Club (which Gambit and Rogue both were wrapped up in at various times throughout their history). Their members are organised in a hierarchy of power, and refer to each other as pieces on a chessboard (The White Queen, The Black King, etc.), rather than by their real names.

In the 1990's, there was a brief story arc in the comics where a Mutant named Joseph appears on the scene & joins the X-Men. He is cloned from one of the bad guys in the series (Magneto, for you comic fans), but his DNA is changed so he appears as a much younger version than his originator (appearing in his 30's, rather than in his 60's). Joseph is different in personality, too, turning to good, rather than evil. He falls in love with Rogue, and she is drawn to him. This creates a love-triangle between her, Joseph, and (a very jealous) Gambit. Ultimately, Rogue chooses Gambit, and later, Joseph dies in some heroic manner.

Adamantium is a made-up metal in the Marvel Universe that is the strongest and most durable metal in the world.

You'll need to understand all that for this fic, as Luna = Ms. Marvel, Astoria = Bella Donna, and Rabastan = Joseph.


	2. Chapter 2

**.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Grimmauld Place – January, 1999**_**  
**_

_The most conservative British, Scottish, and Irish wizards united under the Dark Lord's banner to launch the assault against Hogwarts Castle last year, but they lost the fight. At that time, Voldemort barely escaped, and the guerrilla fighting in the months since has taken its toll on him and his army. _

_Several weeks ago, around Christmas, thanks to some excellent intelligence received by Severus Snape and his protégé, Astoria Malfoy, the Order was able to rout the Russian and Balkan pure-blood families who had sent reinforcements at Tom Riddle's appeal. During the ensuing Battle of Chelmsford on New Year's Day, our side tragically lost Hagrid, Flitwick, Percy, and Pomfrey, but we did manage to defeat the eastern coalition of wizards and witches, sending them packing back to the continent. _

_The newest reports from the field indicate that Voldemort's army is floundering, as has lost many of its supporters. Lupin optimistically predicts the war will be over by next year._

_I remain as I have these last seven months, since I was left behind during the Battle of Hogwarts: mostly alone at Grimmauld Place, which serves as a safe house now. People come and go through the house in random intervals, sometimes jam-packing the beds, but in general, I am the sole warm body within these four walls._

_My occupation for the resistance has greatly changed as a result of my loss of magic. Once a week, I prepare potions ingredients for Lavender with stock brought in from Neville, so we can constantly replenish our stores of healing draughts, and make curing pastes which don't require any magical conjuration. In between, I research, pouring over maps and intelligence that Moody and his team gather regarding enemy movements, seeking patterns or clues as to the enemy's next steps, and I keep the place tidy and spider-free. Sometimes, I tinker with Muggle technology brought to me by Arthur (who has wired the house for Muggle and magical use), learning about electronics, and how motors and belts work. I play the piano in the Living Room when the fancy strikes, and keep the chessboard in the opposite corner dust-free for when Ron and Harry come by. Whenever people do come to crash in the house, I cook meals for them the old-fashioned Muggle way from supplies that Molly continually keeps stocked-piled here, and I keep everyone's spirits up with holiday decorations and celebrations when they find themselves at my door. _

_Basically, I give those who fight a place of comfort away from the war, and I remind them what they are fighting for: people like me, a mundane._

_In the vaults of my heart, I secretly resent my limited ability to really make a difference in this war, but I stay around and do it because there are more important things in the world than my hurt feelings. There is the safety of Monica and Wendell Wilkins. There is George's depression and his suicidal tendencies. There is being there for any of my friends when they need a pep-talk or advice. _

_There is keeping a watchful eye on our newest 'guests', too._

_Most days Draco Malfoy can be found sitting by his mother's bed in the room we've made up for her next to mine on the first floor, waiting for her to regain consciousness, or looking out the front window in the Living Room. He showers every day, and always appears clean and well-shaven, no matter the chasing of his internal demons. He hardly speaks, mostly avoids me, and can often be found lost in thought, twisting his gold wedding band around and around on his long, thin finger. Sometimes, he stares at me in curiosity, and I wonder just how much he knows about what his twisted aunt has done to me. It's obvious to all and sundry that I have lost my magical talent; I don't carry a wand anymore, and Draco is quite observant of that fact. He has not yet asked me about it, though. He will, I know he will, but for now he satisfies his interest in silent observation._

_Rabastan Lestrange wanders from room to room at Grimmauld in a bizarre pattern of interest, one day admiring the piano in the Living Room, the next visiting Regulus Black's old bedroom on the third floor, and the day after that, inventorying the contents of the kitchen pantries below. He is anxious and restless, never staying in one place for too long, and he sleeps with his bedroom door and windows open, no matter the weather outside. He hogs up the hot water in the bath more than Malfoy, spending more than half an hour at a jaunt under the spray, leaving me waiting for the old water heater in the basement (the one I fixed within the first few weeks of living here) to refresh. He is polite, oddly enough, but like Draco, spends most of his time watching, and less talking to me._

_My three-week old housemates are defectors, running while they had the chance, while their Dark Lord was distracted by the need to spread his evil wings to blanket the world. Lucius Malfoy's death, and Narcissa's subsequent injuries necessitated them coming to the Order for help, as they couldn't risk going to St. Mungo's._

_I have been ordered by Shacklebolt to assure their comfort; apparently, he brokered an information exchange with Malfoy and Lestrange in exchange for providing them sanctuary and aide. I perform my duty to the best of my ability, despite the fact I hate that in their eyes, I am little but a servant – right where they believe I belong. _

_For all my courtesy, I still don't trust any of them. Every day I wait on pins and needles for either Draco or the youngest Lestrange brother to betray us._

**.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Grimmauld Place – February, 2000 (3)**

Intentionally, Ginny sends Rabastan up to my room later with some broth, a bit of bread, and some tea to settle my stomach. The minute he appears at my door with the tray of food, I know my pseudo-sister is attempting to play matchmaker.

I'll admit, when Rabastan Lestrange and Draco Malfoy surrendered thirteen months ago, seeking asylum for themselves as well as a comatose Narcissa Malfoy, I'd had my suspicions about all of them. When it came out during their individual interrogations by the other Order members under an intense regime of Veritaserum and Legilimency, that the three of them had been unwilling soldiers in Tom Riddle's war, I'd still held onto my scepticism of them.

A year plus, and many emotional battles later though, and I've learned a hard lesson: do not always believe your first impression when it comes to Slytherins.

Ral is as different from his older half-brother, Rodolphus, as birds are from bees. For one, he's blond in the same exact shade as the Malfoy men, with stormy, blue eyes and a thin build. According to him, he takes primarily after his mother, Eudora, the second wife of Sebastian Lestrange. Conversely, Rodolphus is bull-like and dark in every way possible, resembling his father's first wife, Abatissa.

As far as personality goes, Ral is a thinker rather than a doer; he's quiet, careful, and methodical, and until he came to the Order, he had always lived in the shadow of Rodolphus' more forceful personality. At ten years younger than his sibling, he'd been coerced into becoming a Death Eater at a young age, indoctrinated a week before his seventeenth birthday. From that point onward, he'd been bullied by his father and brother into casting Unforgivables in Voldemort's name. Oddly enough, he'd never cast the Killing Curse, though.

The similarities between his story and Draco's is staggering, to say the least. That they're third cousins related by blood isn't surprising (Eudora was Lucius Malfoy's second cousin).

There is sixteen years between Ral and me, but when I look at him, I don't see that stretch of time marking his handsome features. I do see sincere regret in his eyes, though. He is a man seeking redemption.

He also fancies himself in love with me. He's told me so on more than one occasion.

Incarcerated in Azkaban since the end of the First Wizarding War, when he was not yet eighteen, it's my suspicion that he hasn't had much experience with women, and that's why he's latched onto me. Perhaps a tryst or two since his escape from prison years back when the Dementors turned on the Ministry, but surely nothing serious.

I see intention in his gaze now, though.

"How are you feeling?" he tactfully asks.

I feel my cheeks heat. Everyone in the Order has known what's been going on between Malfoy and me for a year. The curses Bellatrix laid on us both are not a secret one can keep in a group as close-knit as the Order. It doesn't help that Grimmauld Place doesn't have very good acoustical cushioning, and so conversations –and sexual liaisons, for that matter– are usually audible without a solid Silencing Charm cast in advance.

"I'm fine," I automatically respond, and pull the covers of the bed higher up my chest. "Just tired."

Ral sets the tray on the table by my bed, and sits on the edge, taking liberties by sitting so close without invitation. In his hand, he holds a stem containing several blooms of delicate, soft-petal flowers. "Forget-Me-Nots. My mother loved these flowers. She had a carpet of them covering our front lawn." He smirks with memory. "My father was allergic as hell. Sneezed his bloody head off all the time. I think that's why my mum kept them blooming all year, just to stick it to the old prune."

He passes the stem to me.

"My favourite colour – periwinkle blue," I admit, smelling the flowers. There's a light fragrance, very unique. I've never smelled anything quite like it before. It's absolutely lovely.

"I'll remember that," Ral says and stares down at me, at my gloved hands -I always keep them gloved, to prevent touching bare skin, which activates my curse- and then slowly reaches out to cover them with one of his own. I can feel his warmth seeping through the thin fabric. "May I remind you again that you need not get all of your magical energy from Draco? Two curses can make a charm, they say."

I give him a teasing smile. "An old wives' tale."

"But scientifically held to be true in five out of ten cases," he reminds me. "Think about how the Undetectable Extensions Charm came into existence – from a curse to make things wider, and another to make things endless. Or the Weight Loss Charm, which derives from a Vomiting Curse and an Appetite Suppressant Curse."

"Does it really?" I ask, making a face.

"I may be known to tell an exaggeration here and there, but I will never lie to you, love," he promises me.

The gravity of the situation returns in an instant, and I lose my momentary amusement. "I know what you want, Ral, but I…"

"You're in love with _him,_" he finishes for me, as I am unable to admit the truth aloud. It is obvious who he is referring to as well. "I've known that for as long as I've known I'm in love with _you_."

Ral grips my hand and pulls it up between us, removing the soft cloth glove before I can stop him. I gasp as our naked fingers entwine. Immediately, I feel my theft of his magical energies, as well as the accompanying sexual arousal of my curse, and try to pull away. He prevents it, holding firm, but lowering his head to place a tender kiss upon my knuckles.

"I'll say it again: I still wish to serve you, even knowing how you feel."

His long, golden lashes flutter downward as he continues kissing the back of my hand. How he's able to resist the pull of desire the curse causes in others is beyond me. I know I can mostly deny it right now because I'm very full-up with Malfoy's magic at the moment, and my body is still incredibly exhausted, but that doesn't mean I'm totally immune to the pulse of hot, clenching need that rushes through me.

"Take from me, Hermione. Take what you need, at any time you wish."

He glances up at me from under heavy lids, his meaning crystal clear. My heart is pounding, my breath catches in my chest, and all I can do is stare at him in wide-eyed wonder.

The harsh swish of fabric from the open doorway and booted footsteps moving off down the hall tell me someone has just been unintentionally eavesdropping on my conversation with Rabastan. I have a sinking feeling I know who it is. Malfoy is not as stealthy as he'd like to believe.

I draw my hand from Ral's grasp, and conceal it back inside its fabric shell. I can feel his magic coursing through me as a warm, flowing stream of endless possibilities. Maybe it would be better if Ral and I... No, I can't. He doesn't generate excess magic, like Malfoy does. If I were to take from Ral, I'd be draining him permanently. I could kill him.

"Thank you," I say, to let him know I'm appreciative of his gift and his offer. "I need some time… to think about it."

He nods, accepting my dodge for the moment, but I can see in his face that he won't do so for much longer. He's a man who has had to wait to live, all because he'd made some very poor decisions in his youth, but now that he's free from prison, it's clear he wants to experience what he was denied for fifteen years.

"Please eat," he requests of me, indicating the food on the tray. "It'll help you regain your strength, and the tea will calm you."

With that, he stands and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Godric, what am I going to do? What Ral is offering is a quiet, soothing compromise to the hell I'm currently suffering, both romantically and magically. Perhaps it might be a better alternative to waiting for my heart to get broken.

_But what about Malfoy_, my conscience asks, reminding me of just how unintentionally dangerous he can be without an outlet for his side of the curse. He needs me to take what he makes in excess, and I need him to give me what I can no longer generate on my own.

Really, it's a poor excuse, and I know it. I'm not hesitating on taking Ral up on his overture because I'm worried about Malfoy's powers. I _am_ concerned, naturally, but really I'm hesitating because I'm hoping Malfoy will wake up one day and realise how good we could be together…

Hell, it's Ron all over again, isn't it?

I think I must be a masochist.

**.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Grimmauld Place – February, 1999**

_Our affair begins by accident._

_Malfoy's mother has been transferred to the same safe house as McGonagall as of earlier this afternoon, so it is just me, Draco, and Rabastan left at Grimmauld. We're all three of us in the kitchen, for once in the same room and none of us looking for an escape. Conversation is stilted, but not hostile. _

_"I'm making us beef stew and dumplings for dinner, and planned to melt some chocolate to drink later," I say. "Does that appeal?" _

_Draco grunts, and I take it to mean, 'it's fine'._

_Honestly, I'm a bit relieved that Narcissa woke up two days earlier and is now gone, because Draco's less broody and moody now that his mum is awake and in good hands, and that is always a positive thing given his volatile temper. Besides, changing her bed sheets and her pyjamas, and bathing her while she'd been unconscious had been a lot of work for a person without magic at their disposal. I'd had to do things the old-fashioned way, and had discovered things about Lady Malfoy I hadn't ever wanted to know. For instance, she bore a five-inch scar low on her abdomen, right about where her womb would be. It reminded me of the one my own mum had after she'd had her hysterectomy. Somehow, I just knew Narcissa's uterus was no longer in her, and I wondered what had caused her to undergo such a surgery. _

_Overall, it has all been a very surreal experience care-taking for a woman who loathes the very ground I walk on, but now... well, it is out of my hands. Now, all I have to concern myself with is babysitting two former Death Eaters._

_"That's very kind of you, Miss Granger," Rabastan says in response to my dinner plans for us. "Isn't that nice of her, Draco?" he asks, prodding his companion to show a bit more appreciation. "Miss Granger's help is very-"_

_He stops very suddenly, and the hairs on the back of my next stand up. _

_When I follow his line of sight I'm shocked by the sight before me._

_Draco's eyes are glowing neon red, as bright as a stop light. His whole body is shaking. He wraps his arms around his middle, and starts to whimper as if in pain._

_"What's wrong?" I ask._

_Rabastan stops me from going to my former classmate's side with a restraining hand on my sleeve. "Don't! Don't touch him when he's like this. It's dangerous. Bellatrix cursed him just before her death with an ancient dark spell. It didn't manifest until this past December, but basically, his body accumulates magical energy, storing it until it comes to a boiling point, like now." He insists, "Drop the wards around this place so he can get out and find some place nearby to sink his energy into or he'll blow us all sky high!"_

"_I can't," I say, frustrated. "I... I no longer have any magic!"_

_He looks at me as if I'm some sort of cursed freak and quickly releases me. "What?"_

_I swallow, hating the words tumbling from my lips. "After Bellatrix's death, something… some curse activated for me as well. I think she cast it on me the day I was captured and brought to Malfoy's home last April, while she tortured me. I have no magic of my own anymore. I'm… I'm a Squib."_

_He narrows his eyes in scepticism, even as Draco's pain-filled voice interrupts. _

"_Fucking help me!" he yowls._

"_Where's your wand?" I ask Lestrange, but I already know the answer. I haven't seen Rabastan or Draco use magic once since coming here. Moody has most likely confiscated their wands, assuring they won't be able to turn them on me while staying at Grimmauld, just in case. "Can't you do something?"_

_He shakes his head. "Even if I were good at wandless magic -which I'm not- there's no way I'm getting close to those wards without some serious hurt being doled out, much less taking them down. I felt Moody's strength when he escorted us through them when we came here. I wouldn't dare try."_

_"So, no getting out," I say, exasperated. "Can't he just discharge in here? Maybe grab on to something metal, like the stove, and let it ground him until the magic dissipates?" _

_"It doesn't seem to work like that," Rabastan explains. "From what I can tell, anything he touches that isn't directly touching his skin the minute the build-up starts goes BOOM in a big way. It's how Narcissa was hurt. She reached for his arm, and was thrown ten feet into a wall." He grimaces. "Shit, at this rate, he's going to kill not only us, but the entire neighbourhood. No choice."_

_He crosses to a kitchen drawer, opens it, and takes out a knife that looks light enough to throw with deadly accuracy._

_I step into his path. "You are not going to murder him."_

"_He's on a build-up towards detonation, as you Muggles put it." He looks down at the killing instrument in his hand, and tightens his grip on the handle. "I saw it back at the Manor in Wiltshire, just before the new year. He took out half the bloody house when he went off then. That was just before he accidentally tossed his own mother into the wall, nearly breaking her spine. The only reason Narcissa and I survived then was because Lucius used his wife's wand to cast a protection shield around her, and I happened to be kneeling at her side at that moment. He and the elder Crabbe were caught in the blast." He looked decidedly green just then. "There wasn't enough left of either of them to bury."_

_We lock eyes, and I see a type of determination in him that reflects a life of hard choices._

"_Move, Miss Granger. Please."_

_Fiercely, I shake my head. "There has to be some other way!"_

_Behind me, Draco starts screaming. I turn just in time to see him beginning to topple over._

"_He's falling!" Rabastan shouts, panicked._

_I move on instinct, and throw myself at Draco._

_The moment my skin touches his I feel his magic race to escape his body – diving right into me. It pours through my skin, races through my veins, and sinks deep into my bones. Like an empty, thirsty vessel, I am suddenly filled up with all of this miraculous power, and it's so euphoric a sensation that my eyes roll back into my head. My knees give out, and Draco and I tumble to the floor, grasping each other like a lifeline in a churning, stormy ocean._

_His mouth accidentally presses against the pulse in my throat, and through the thin membrane, I feel a zap of energy. It causes my body to jerk, and to become incredibly aroused. My nipples tingle and my clit swells. Wet, silky warmth soaks me as I cream my knickers. The rapture takes me over and I rub myself against Draco's hard body with a moan._

_Experimentally, he rocks his lower body into mine, and I respond with a pleasurable cry and an equally forceful shifting of my own. It's a blatant signal that sends us both into a whirling tornado of need. We begin enthusiastically humping, uncaring of our audience or of the barrier of our clothes, our bodies as out of control as our appositional curses._

_We strain against each other, and I wrap my legs around him, urging him on by grinding into his pelvis. Each breath is torn with desperation from my heaving chest, and my heart thumps so loudly in my ears it's a heavy drum beat that threatens to deafen me. "Fuck, FUCK," Draco shouts above me, as he strokes against me mimicking sex. His hips create an almost painful friction between my clit, the thin cotton of my knickers, and the rough zip of my jeans._

_I struggle to speak, but all that comes out is some animalistic growly noises. I spear my fingers into his soft, platinum hair and pull – a silent urging for more, feeling my horizon fast approaching. He gives exactly what I want and need, latching onto my throat with his teeth to pin me down, and roughly shoving against me until I'm wailing and climaxing, and... oh-my-god I want to die in this feeling!_

_When it's over, I'm exhausted and sore, but I can feel magic tingling at the tip of my tongue and behind my eyelids. I'm filled with its light and joy, and I nearly cry at having forgotten how wonderful a feeling it is. It is an easy thing for me to wave my hand and will the knife from Rabastan's hand. It flies across the room and sinks its deadly blade into a wooden chopping board._

_Lestrange is looking at me and Draco with amazement… and blatant sexual hunger. _"_Well, that's one way to work off an out-of-control curse," he muses with a small laugh, his cheeks as pink as mine probably are just then. "Think I need a cold shower tonight, though."_

"_All the more hot water for me," I say, still catching my breath, beginning to untangle from Malfoy. My legs drop heavily to the floor as do my shaky arms. "I'm desperately in need of a bath right now."_

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**In the Marvel comics, Gambit's eyes glow bright red whenever he uses his power.**

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

******.~.~.~.~.~.**  


**Grimmauld Place – February, 2000 (4)**

******.~.~.~.~.~.**

One day later, I'm back up on my feet and able to leave my bedroom on my own, without Ginny's or Ral's or anyone else's help. My strength returns, and with it comes renewed purpose.

An hour after I'm showered and dressed in clean clothing, I'm in Moody's face, demanding to be sent out on a mission. I have magical energy to burn now, and I want to feel as if I matter again. Moody, of course, tells me to piss off, reminding me that I don't make the duty roster – he does. Dogged in my determination to make a difference in this war, I don't let it go, of course.

Our titanic clash has become something of a tradition since the end of last summer, when I'd decided I wanted to do some field work again. The grizzled, old wizard, who is one of five members of the Order's leadership council (the other members being Arthur, Kingsley, Minerva, and Remus), knows by now to come to Grimmauld right around this time of the month, ready to duke it out with me.

The battlefield is always the kitchen, while sitting at opposite ends of the long table. As in a chess game, Moody and I play Skewers and Pins, the arguments flowing from one assertion to a rebuttal to a counter, to the next assertion. In the end, I usually Fork the logic, so he has no choice but to make a compromise. It's always the same.

This time, though, the tradition changes. Moody doesn't actually fight me as hard, and I'm told my assignment without much of a fuss: I'm to be given back Bellatrix's wand (the one we stole from her after escaping Malfoy Manor) and will scout a possible Death Eater safe house... with Ral and Malfoy. Moody thinks my two housemates are trustworthy enough, and ready to be given back their wands and sent on a mission finally. With their knowledge of the enemy, he believes they're our best chance for determining if the site is legit, or if it's a trap.

Moody will be going with us, of course, to keep an eye on the newest recruits and assure Malfoy and Ral don't try anything... funny. Hence the reason he didn't put up much of a fight this time around. Sneaky bugger.

I think it's a terrible idea to put the three of us together, though, and I'm unafraid to say so to Moody.

"We can always go without you, girl."

He reminds me once more that I've bullied my way into the assignment, so I either commit or I forfeit the board. That it's my choice goes unspoken, but the gauntlet's been thrown, and I pick it up to save face.

Malfoy doesn't bother asking me if I'm well enough to go on the mission when we wait in the Living Room upstairs later for final instructions. In fact, he doesn't even turn from the window when Ral walks in, stops short upon locking eyes with me, and starts to sputter in protest.

"You're still ashen faced, Hermione! You need at least three more days of bed rest!"

I take a deep breath of air and blow it out in a rush. "Ral, don't start. I feel fine."

"Who the fuck's Ral?"

I turn to Malfoy, hearing that thin thread of menace in tone that reminds me of our school days together. His eyes are narrow slits as he looks between me and our third companion on this trip.

"Rabastan Alastair Lestrange. Ral," I explain with a shrug, trying to play it cool. "Short, sweet, and to the point. Easier to say and write. You want a nickname, too? I can always think one up for you. 'Grumpy-puss' jumps immediately to mind."

My once-a-month-lover looks between me and his distant relation and snorts in disdain. "Whatever," he snarls, and turns his attention back out the window, ignoring the room.

Ral and I exchange a glance in surprise at Malfoy's uncharacteristic bad mood, but neither of us responds. Instead, we take back up arguing the issue of my health and the mission. Eventually, I win by slapping a gloved hand over Ral's mouth.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm going, and that's final. Moody agrees, because I'm the only member of the Order who's a synesthetes." When my partner looks confused by the new term (one I've only just discovered after doing some reading into the strange experiences I've been having for the past seven months), I explain, "It's a person who has a neurological condition called Synesthesia –they have a heightened sensory experience caused by different areas of the brain being stimulated. For instance, a synesthetes might see certain letters or numbers in colour – like, all 'A's would appear green to them, or all '3's would appear red. Some see colours flash before their eyes when they hear certain sounds. There's even some who experience phantom tastes in the mouth whenever a certain word or a foreign language is spoken. In my case, I'm a colour-magic synesthetes – I see magical auras around people." I look down at my toes. "It's something I acquired from-" I swallow back the lump in my throat. "-from Luna, when I…"

I can't admit it, even after all this time. It's too painful to divulge aloud what I accidentally did to Luna out at the Burrow the day of Fred's funeral, even though everyone already knows.

_You hollowed her out and left her a shell_, my merciless conscience reminds me.

It had been an accident, but my conscience has never been eased by that knowledge.

Three days post-Battle of Hogwarts, and the Weasley family had decided to lay Fred to rest on the hill behind their home. Luna had been standing next to me, offering silent support as we'd watched a tearful Ron and his family say their goodbyes as Fred's pine box was lowered into the earth. I'd been crying, and Luna had reached out to touch my hand in support, opening her mouth, presumably to say something kind or comforting to me in that soft, whimsical voice of hers. The second her skin touched mine, the curse Bellatrix had laid upon me had activated.

I'm told I hit the ground like a sack of bricks, flailing about. The seizure had locked up my hand muscles, and it had proven extremely difficult to pry Luna's wrist from mine. It had taken them using magic to disconnect us. By then my friend had been completely unresponsive, slumped over me and already in a coma.

I remember none of it after seeing Luna open her mouth to talk to me, or how I happened to grab hold of her wrist. I definitely do not remember draining her of her magical essence and all of her memories. I only recall that the next day, I felt like something Crookshanks had vomited up. I'd also been able to see things that before that I could never see. Colours had seemed more vivid, and I'd been hyper-aware of every tiny bit of movement – the wind blowing against the glass window in the room I'd been given, how red Harry's scar truly was, and the fearful way Ron's eyes would track me.

I'd also been able to see the differences in saturation levels of dark magic in the people around me. I'd become like Moody's false eye – all-seeing, able to discern changes in a person's magical aura and process the meaning.

Ironically, Luna's gift is why I can tell that neither Draco nor Ral has cast the Killing Curse. Nor has Harry, Arthur, Neville, or Minerva, for that matter. On the other hand, I know Moody, Narcissa, and Lupin have, as have almost all of the other Order members, including Ron and Ginny.

In all this time, Luna's talent has never left me, and yet it has taken her a year and a half in the Janus Thickley Ward at St. Mungo's to re-learn how to read and write, and to train up on social cues. I'm told her knowledge base is the equivalent to a first year's at Hogwarts, although she's a Squib and cannot use magic any longer. She's still just as strange, compassionate, and beautiful as before, but she's never regained any of her prior memories or her former gifts. I stole them from her forever, unwittingly, and I have no idea how to give them back.

Ral removes my hand from his mouth and holds it close to his chest. "One day, I hope you'll finally believe me when I tell you that none of this is your fault, Hermione. It's Bellatrix's. Not yours." He steps closer to me, cupping my cheek. "Never yours."

Everyone tells me that, but it doesn't ease the guilt. I'm not sure it ever can.

Ral's face becomes blurred as tears fill my eyes. Hastily, I wipe them away with the back of a hand. "I know," I shakily reply, giving him a tremulous smile. "Thanks, though."

"When you're done holding hands and singing love songs, kiddies, perhaps we could get on with the mission," Moody snarks from the open doorway.

Immediately, Ral and I snap to attention and break apart. Even Malfoy turns away from his brooding contemplation at the window and stands a little straighter. Something about Moody has everyone on their toes every time the man opens his mouth. He doesn't even have to utter the words, 'constant vigilance!' to make a crowd nervous – all he has to do is think them.

He draws out a map, and non-verbally spells it to float in the air before him. Ral, Malfoy, and I gather 'round and receive our last minute instructions.

Hours later, we're back at Grimmauld, and the mission has been a success... although I have no idea what our observations mean in the grand scheme of things.

"Are you sure they were all pure-blood witches?" I ask my teammates again. "I only recognised Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode in the group."

Ral and Draco both nod.

"They were all pure-blood, Granger," Draco confirms for me. "Davis, her mother, Bulstrode, Gemma Farley, Lucian Bole's sister, Amaris, Terence Higg's cousin –I forget her name, and Merle Blishwick's three daughters."

"I recognised Patricia Gamp. She'd been in my class with me back at Hogwarts," Ral confirmed. "Grown-up now, but I recognised that same unattractive mole on the side of her nose, poor girl. I'm guessing that was her daughter at her side. They shared the same unfortunate birthmark." He tapped the side of his nose with a grin.

I contemplate what I've been told, cross referencing it against my own recall of the events from this afternoon. "I didn't see a single wand in any witch's hand. It looked to me as if they were being herded into that building against their will by those men."

"Their husbands and fathers, I thought," Draco said. "I recognised some of them, too."

"Didn't notice the lack of wands, I'll admit." Ral sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "I did hear the screaming going on inside the place, though, just as the door was opened. You heard it, right?"

Draco and I nod. It had been a terrible sound – feminine shrieking, accompanied by moaning.

"Why would they be torturing their women, though?" I ask. "That makes no sense."

Clearly, none of us can come up with a good theory. We're stumped.

I write up my report that night for Moody and the Order committee, and request that I be sent out on another mission to follow-up. My request goes unanswered.

**.~.~.~.~.~.**

**Grimmauld Place – March, 1999**

******.~.~.~.~.~.**

_"It's coming back. I can feel it."_

_Draco's mouth hovers next to my right ear as he crowds me from behind, pinning me between his hard, tight body and the first landing's railing. I look down at my gloved hands -they're always gloved now, after the incident with Draco in the kitchen last month- gripping the old, weathered wood in front of me as if my life depended on it, and respond with a simple, "Oh?"_

_He trails his nose very lightly over my earlobe, and even in such a small touch of skin, I can feel a buzz as my body absorbs some of his extra magical energies. It feels good, and I want more._

_"Want to help me work it off?" he offers, nibbling the tender bit of flesh very lightly with his teeth._

_My whole body tingles with repressed desire, co-mingled with fear. The truth is I want desperately to feel such euphoria again –I've thought of little else in the weeks since the incident in the kitchen– and I've loved having magic under my command once more, but I'm sure it would be a mistake under such circumstances. First of all, I've never had sex, and I don't want my first time to be nothing more than a means to an end for my partner, and a curious itch to scratch for me. Secondly, I don't trust Malfoy. I think he would exploit the fact he'd had me first to try to irritate Ron and Harry, and to make me feel like a slag for giving it up to him. Thirdly, I have no idea how many partners he's had, or how expert he may be in bed, but he seems like the type to treat sex like a sport rather than with any sort of respect. I deserve better. And most importantly, he's married. I have no idea where Astoria is, or why he didn't bring her here with him when he came with his mother and Ral, but he's got a wife and isn't free to fraternize with any other woman. _

_"I don't think we need to be that close," I say and take off one of my gloves, wiggling my fingers at him. "Simple touching should be just as sufficient to solve both our problems, without causing any... messy entanglements." _

_I place my hand over his on the railing, and my curse goes to work, siphoning off the residual caused by Draco's curse. I feel our sexual connection explode into life, instantaneous and undeniable._

_Draco shudders against me and lays his forehead into the curve of my throat. _

_"Oh," I whimper, as my body goes tight and blooms, giving off the light, musky scent of my arousal into the air. It whispers between us, as tantalizing as the feel of his iron-hard erection pressing against my backside._

_His free hand releases the rail and darts under my jumper before I can stop it. His palm is warm as it presses against my womb and begins to rub. Where his fingers caress, magic jumps into me. __My breasts become tender and heavy, and I am already sticky and damp between my legs._

_"Oh... oh... no, I..."_

_His mouth finds that sensitive spot on my neck and begins sucking, and I am lost. All of the resistance drains out of me, replaced by need._

_Draco gathers me into his arms, and directs me to the room I've taken as my own while staying here. He shuts and locks the door behind us, and begins stripping us both of our clothes. I'm naked for the first time in front of a man, and it's all so dizzying and unbelievable that I have no time to stop and breathe before I'm on the bed, and he's over me._

_I'm so high from the energy I'm stealing from him that I hardly notice when he steals my virginity from me. There's an uncomfortable stretching, a sharp pinch, and an ache that settles into my hips as he plunges into me, and then there's no more time for thinking. __He doesn't make love to me. He fucks me, deeply and thoroughly, until I'm screaming his name and orgasming so hard I see stars. He claims me as his possession a moment later as he empties both his treacherous seed and his dangerous, excess magic into my body._

_The rush of his energy slamming into me a moment after the last tremor subsides knocks the wind from my sails again. I want to scream, but it hurts too much to do so. It's a good kind of hurt, like losing my virginity had been, but it's still pain and my nerve receptors aren't used to the sensation. They fire all at once, and I almost black out. _

_It ends quite abruptly, as my system takes in all it can and some odd protective measure–perhaps part of my curse–shuts it off, keeping me from exploding. It takes long minutes after that before I can see straight or breathe right. _

_Eventually, Malfoy pulls out of me and stares down the length of our bodies at the mess between our legs. "Shit. Don't move," he says, and hops off the bed to the pile of clothing strewn across the floor. Extricating his wand, he cleans first himself, then me with an easy spell. "I didn't know you were a– That you'd never– Are you okay?" he asks once all the blood is vanished, unexpectedly considerate._

_I nod my head, unsure as to what to say or do now. I have no frame of reference from which to act, and besides, I'm entirely too lethargic to form any kind of coherent sentence at the moment. _

_Things grow awkward, as all I can do is stare at him, this man who is my first lover. I take in his tall, thin frame and how he's growing into it now that he's eating and sleeping regularly. I note his shiny, Champagne-coloured hair is mussed, and his pale skin is blemish-free. The hair on his chest and legs and the thatch nestling his exhausted cock are wisps of dark golden threads. He's angular of face, and slim of body, but it's not unattractive or in the least bit feminine. In fact, his look is predatory in much the same way a cheetah is, or in the way a cobra can appear when it stands up and flares its hood._

_I'm sure he's cataloguing me in much the same way as I am him, noting my tangled, curly hair spread across the pillow, my average-sized breasts with their small, beige nipples, the ample curve of my hips, and the wild, dark bush between my legs that I don't shave. I should be embarrassed by such intense scrutiny. I should want to hide my face for the next seventeen years and have my head examined by a psychologist. All I can do is revel in the feel of his pilfered energy bringing me back to life, and enjoy the ache in my joints caused by good sex._

_The seconds of silence stretch into minutes. Sensing I'm unsure as to what to say or do in this case, Draco gathers his clothing from the floor and redresses. He heads for the exit once his shoes are retied, but stops in the now-open doorway. "Thanks, Granger," he mutters, and then darts away, shutting the door behind him before I can respond._

_I sit in the solitude for a while, hurting all over, wondering if I haven't just made the biggest mistake of my life. _

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Please review this chappy, if you would be so kind!

Happy New Year, all! Sorry for the delay in updating this story. I underwent surgery in December, and then there were the holidays, and it took me weeks to feel recovered enough to get writing and updating again. You can expect the once-a-week regular updates to this story from now on until it's completed.

In the meantime, please head on over to DramioneLove on Livejournal (dramionelove . livejournal . com) and submit some prompts for the DramioneLove ~Love Fest~ 2014! I'm modding that fest, and am dying to see what your deliciously wicked imaginations can come up with! You don't have to write or draw for the fest to prompt (it's open to everyone, even to those without a Livejournal account), and there are no limits on the number of prompts you can submit. You can submit anonymously, too, if you don't want anyone to know who you are (just don't sign into Livejournal and leave a comment on the posting prompt). All genres (drama, tragedy, dark fic, comedy, romance, etc.), tropes (time travel, getting married, co-workers/partners, magical creature mating [Veela, Vampire, etc.], meeting on a cruise ship, Valentine's holiday celebration, Polyjuice mishap, drunken one-off, Voldemort wins the war & Draco's a Death Eater on the winning side, BDSM Dom/sub relationship, challenges/bets, Yule Ball, Quidditch locker room fun, etc.), and ratings (rated G, PG, PG-13, PG-15, R, NC-17) welcome. **So... if you've got a Dramione-centric plot bunny running around in your brain, now's your chance to throw it out there and see if someone in the fandom will write it/draw it for this fest!**


End file.
